The third Holmes
by Write like a boss
Summary: When Sherlock has a nightmare about his past he turns to his brother Mycroft. The next week he meets someone he thought he might never see again. His little brother.
1. The Nightmare

**Hey guys! I know it's been a while but I'm back and hopefully I can start to do this regularly. I'm really sorry about not posting in a while so please accept this as an apology. Enjoy!**

"Hey Sherlock?"

"Yes John?"

"Do you remember the day we met?"

I looked up at John skeptically. He had just had a thought and couldn't wrap his head around it. "Yes, of course." I said, wondering what exactly was going through he blogger's mind. "When I told you that I met your enemy you asked which one I was talking about." John began. "That is correct." I confirmed. "Well how does that make sense?" John asked. "We met Irene and Moriarty after that day and your only other enemy is Mycroft." We stared at each other for forty seven seconds, him at his computer and me lying on the couch, before I suddenly stood up and walked to my room. "Good night, John." I said before closing the door behind me, John bewildered. I barely ever slept in my room, I never said "Good night" to John, and it was only 9:45.

That night something happened that hasn't happened since I was a child. I had a nightmare.

I was standing alone in the middle of a field when my mobile rang. I answered it. "This is Sherlock Holmes. What do you want?" "Do you remember that day?" Asked a voice I didn't recognize. The area in front of me transformed into a gravel road in the country where three boys were walking home from school. The oldest was about seventeen, had red hair and dull blue eyes. The next was about ten and had black curls and piercing blue eyes. The youngest was merely seven years old and had dark brown hair and blue eyes as intense as the other's. The youngest one's eyes lit up as he had an idea. "I'll race you to the fifth mailbox around the bend." He proposed to the two other boys. "No thank you." Said the eldest but the small boy was already gone, leaving the other two behind. "No! Stop this!" I pleaded, but my yelling was in vain as the two boys continued walk leisurely and the third ran around the bend and out of sight. "HERO!" The boy cried a few moments later. Both boys ran around the bend as fast as they could in time to see a plateless, black van with no windows or markings speed away with the boy inside. "NO! NO!" I screamed. "STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!"

"NO!" I screamed sitting upright in my bed, drenched in a cold sweat. I put a hand to my face and felt tears. I quickly wiped them away. 27 seconds later John burst into the room, wearing his robe and looking extremely worried. "Sherlock! What happened?" He asked. "What do you mean, John?" I asked, unable to completely regain my composure but managing to steady my voice. "Well you were screaming in your bed, drenched in sweat, and fully clothed." He pointed out. "That's strange even for you." "I'm fine." I insisted. He gave me one more look before leaving and closing the door behind him. That's when I began to sob. That wasn't just a nightmare. It was a memory.

"Come on, Mycroft! Let me in!" I shouted. "Don't make me break down the door again!" He finally opened the door. "What do you want, Sherlock?" He demanded. "I want to talk about Vinson." I said. His eyes widened in shock and he stepped aside to let me in. We both sat at either side of his desk as we talked.

"It's been fifteenth years since we talked about him." Mycroft pointed out.

"Eighteen years actually." I corrected.

"Why do you suddenly want to talk?"

"You don't?"

"You know I don't like to dwell on the past, Sherlock."

"He was our brother!"

"You remember that day twenty one years ago as well as I do." Mycroft finally said. "We were walking home from school, Vinson ran ahead, and then …" His voice trailed off before he could finish. "Then he was taken." I mumbled, finishing his sentence. We were silent for a few more minuets. "Do you remember when we were kids and we used to play together?" I asked, a small smile on my face. "How could I forget?" Mycroft replied with a chuckle. "You were the hero, I was your archenemy and Vinson would swap sides based on the situation." "The adventures of Hero, Enemy and Archenemy." I mused.

"Don't you still call me your archenemy?"

"Of course not!"

"Don't lie, I know you do!"

"Well it doesn't really matter, does it."

"It mattered to Vinson." Mycroft murmured. "Don't you remember what he said when-" "Well I should really be off." I interrupted, getting to my feet. I was at the door before he spoke again. "You still have hope, don't you?" Mycroft asked. "For a few months after the incident you kept saying that he would be back. You still believe it, don't you?" I considered the question for a moment. Hope was for children and yet what else was I supposed to call it? I could always just lie to him but he just opened opened up like a jar; I hadn't seen him like this since just after the incident. "Yes, Mycroft." I admitted. "I still think he'll be back."


	2. The Return

"John. The mail is here."

"I'll get it."

It was a week after I had talked to Mycroft about Vinson and I still couldn't stop thinking about him. What was wrong with me? Caring was not an advantage- Vinson's abduction was enough to prove that- and yet here I was; unable to stop thinking about him.

"Alright. What's wrong?" John asked, a few letters in his hand, one with my name on it. "You've barely talked all week and all you've eaten is a piece of toast on Wednesday." "I've just been thinking, John." I said "Nothing more." "Sherlock, I know you better than that." John said. "We haven't had a case that lasted longer than an hour in a long time. Normally you would be shooting the wall by now."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Just give me my letter."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Don't make me take it from you."

"Oh come on, Sherlock! Don't be such a child!"

"Fine! I'll tell you!" I snapped before looking down a my feet, expressionless. "I have a brother." John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I knew that." "No, John. I'm not talking about Mycroft." I said, looking up at the doctor. "I have a little brother. His name is Vinson and he was abducted twenty one years ago at the age of seven." I spoke softly and John stared at me, dumbstruck. "I'm sorry." He finally said, handing me the letter. "I shouldn't

have asked." "Actually I would have been disappointed if you weren't curious." I replied, studying the shaky handwriting on the envelope. "Well this is new. It can't be anyone we know but it's not a client either. Clients don't write letters." I opened the envelope and read the letter inside:

 _Dear Sherlock Holmes,_

 _You'll be wanting to meet me at the abandoned music shop. We need to talk. If you want to know who I am you'll have to come and I know that you can't stand not knowing. You do, however like a good mystery. You always have. So, tomorrow, 3:00, abandoned music shop. I'll be waiting for you._

 _Signed,_

 _Anonymous_

"So?" John asked.

"I have to meet someone tomorrow."

"Who?"

"I don't know. And I don't like not knowing."

The next day I was standing outside the abandoned music shop at 3:00 sharp. "Alright, let's get this over with." I said as I walked in, my voice echoing throughout the building. I stopped in my tracks as I heard piano music coming from upstairs. It started off soft and gentle, like a mother's lullaby, then the tone changed, but whether it was now sad or joyful I couldn't tell. The song gradually gained momentum, becoming a fast paced, passionate song that told a story; one of fear, hatred and longing.

There was only one person who could play like that.

I climbed the stairs and found myself in a large room with windows on all sides. In the middle of the room was a young man playing a large, black studio piano. The man was in his late twenties, was tall and thin- possibly malnourished most his life- and had raven black hair, an unreadable expression and brilliant blue eyes that were fixed on his dancing hands.

The song changed one last time, this time seeming to tell of hope and a new beginning. The song finally ended on a hopeful G chord. "Hello, Sherlock." The man said, slowly looking up to meet my eyes. "It's been a long time." "Vinson?" I asked, recognizing his eyes more than anything else. "Excellent deduction, Sherlock." He said with a smile. He slid over on the bench so there would be room for both of us and I sat down beside him. There was so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, that I missed him for all those years, that Mycroft and I need him, that things weren't the same without him, and so much more. "Vinson, I-"

"I know, Sherlock. I missed you too." He said

"Where have you been?"

"Most recently? America but I've been all over the world. The woman that abducted me was part of some sick network."

"What kind of network?"

"Sherlock, as much as I want to tell you, now's not the time." He said. "There's someone I want you to meet." He stood and turned towards a corner of the room where boxes were stacked high. "Theek hai, Kaayara, aap ab baahar aa sakate hain." He said gently. _Alright, Kyra, you can come out now._ I translated mentally. Out of the corner came a small girl, no older than six, with dark skin and hair and a tattered dress. _Indian parentage, taken from her family a few years ago, abuse victim, doesn't trust easily._ I deduced.

I watched as Vinson knelt down, gently took her hands and talked to her softly in Hindi. I had almost forgotten how different Vinson was from Mycroft and I. He was just as smart but he didn't think of his emotions as weakness. He was much less closed off and passive than us too.

Finally, he stood and coaxed her to speak. "Hailo, Shree Homs. Vinasan mujhe tumhaare baare mein bahut kuchh bataaya." She said timidly. _Hello Mr Holmes. Vinson told me a lot about you._ I forced a small smile. "Krpaya, mujhe Sharlak kahate hain." I said. _Please, call me Sherlock._ She gave a soft smile before hiding behind Vinson's legs. "We're still working on her English." Vinson explained. "When I managed to get out of the network Kyra escaped with me. I promised that I wouldn't leave her." "Sentiment?" "Exactly." He confirmed. "Now, why don't we get out of here?" He took Kyra's hand and I lead the way down the stairs and out of the building. "I assume that you've already seen Mycroft?" I questioned, trying to find a cab. "Actually, he doesn't know I'm back yet. You're the first person I've come to." Vinson admitted. "Oh, this will be fun." I muttered.


	3. 221b Baker Street

**Hey guys! Sorry about the wait. Things have been really crazy! Enjoy the chapter!**  
We finally managed to get a cab and headed to 221b. "I think you will like my flatmate." I said. Vinson allowed a large smile to appear on his face. "Who would want to share a flat with you?" He asked jokingly. "Dr John Watson." I said matter-of-factly. "Where are you staying?" "Kyra and I found a place not too far from here." He said. "It's cheap and it's only until I find work." I looked down at the small child on his right. "kaayara, mujhe apane baare mein batao." I said. _So Kyra, tell me about yourself._ Kyra, who was looking out the window, looked over at me nervously. "main jab main chaar thee aur kuchh maheene pahale amerika ke lie mila hai apane parivaar se liya gaya tha. yahee kaaran hai ki jab main vinasan se mulaakaat kee." She said. _I was taken from my family when I was four and got to America a few months ago. That's when I met Vinson._ "Samajha. Vaise, aap kaise vaayalin ke baare mein kya mahasoos karate hain?" I asked. _I see. By the way, how do you feel about violin?_ Her face lit up at the mention of the instrument. "Mujhe har tareeke ka sangeet pasand hai! Kya aapako pata hai kaise khelana hai?" She asked. _I love all kinds of music! Do you know how to play?_ I nodded. "Homs bhaiyon do upakaranon khelate hain. Main vaayalin khelate hain, Mychroft nibhaata baansuree, Vinasan gitaar bajaata hai aur ham sabhee ko piyaano khelate hain." I explained. _All the Holmes brothers play two instruments. I play the violin, Mycroft plays the flute, Vinson plays the guitar and we all play the piano._ Kyra looked up at Vincent, still smiling. "Tum mujhe kyon nahin bataaya?" She asked. _Why didn't you tell me?_ He shrugged. "Yah mahatvapoorn nahin tha." He said simply. _It wasn't important._  
A moment later we arrived on Baker Street.  
"Who was it, Sherlock?" John asked from the kitchen when we walked in. "John, can you please come out here?" I asked. "There's someone you should meet." "Um, okay." He said skeptically, coming into the living room. His face was full of confusion as he looked from me, to Vincent, to Kyra, who was hiding behind Vincent. "Hello. You must be John Watson." He said, extending a hand. John shook it. "Yes, I am." He said. "And you are?" "Vincent Holmes." Vincent replied. John's eyes widened as he looked back and forth between my brother and I. "So then you're- Do you mean to say that- Oh my God." He stammered. "Sherlock told me that you were gone a long time ago." "Well I'm back now." Vincent replied, laughing a bit at his reaction. "So who's the little girl?" John asked. "Her name is Kyra. She came with Vincent from America." I explained. "Don't try to talk to her; she doesn't speak English and you don't speak Hindi." Kyra slowly came out from behind Vincent, surprising both of us. She made her way over to John, looked up at him, and gave him a small smile. He returned the smile and she ran back to the safety of Vincent. "Did I do something wrong?" John asked. "No, not at all!" Vincent said. "I'm surprised she interacted with you at all!" He knelt down so he was eye level with Kyra again. "Yah Jon Vaatasan hai. Dont vorree; ham us par vishvaas kar sakate hain." He said gently. _This is John Watson. Don't worry; we can trust him._ She nodded in response. _Why wouldn't they be able to trust John?_ I wondered. _Could it have something to do with this "network" Vincent mentioned?_  
We all sat down and talked for most of the day. "Sherlock! Do you remember all dad's attempts at "bonding" with us?" Vincent asked me. "Yes, I remember." I said, rolling my eyes. "Each was worse than the last but you have to give him credit for trying so hard.  
"My favorite trip was when he took us fishing." Vincent said.  
"What happened?" John asked.  
"Let's just say that by the time the day was over I had caught a fish and Mycroft had three fishing hooks stuck in his hands."  
"And Sherlock?"  
"He got startled by a fish our dad reeled in and fell off the dock."  
The three of us stifled our laughter to avoid waking Kyra, who had fallen asleep with her head in Vincent's lap. "So Vincent, what is this 'network' you told me about?" I asked. Vincent stroked the girl's hair as if for reassurance. "It's an international network of people buying and selling children." He began. "Some children are put to work doing things _adults_ wouldn't dare do. Others aren't so lucky..." His voice trailed off and he squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to erase a bad memory. "What did they do to you?"I asked softly. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Other children are abused and tortured for the fun of it." A long silence followed these words. I pictured my little brother, scared and alone, covered in bruises and scars and had to fight back the urge to shed a tear. "I take it you and Kyra went into the latter category?" I asked. He nodded and we were all silent for long time, the only noise in the room being Kyra's steady breathing.  
"Well, I ought to be off." Vincent finally said, standing carefully so he didn't wake Kyra. "I'll get a cab." I said, walking down stairs. When I came back inside, having gotten a cab, I heard John and Vincent talking. "You know, he's been different since you came along." John said.  
"In what way?" Vincent asked.  
"Well for one thing he's not a machine. He's showing emotion a bit which is strange for him."  
"Really? He wasn't machine-like at all when we were kids. I suppose he must have changed while I was gone."  
"He must have." John agreed.  
"Cab's here." I finally said. "If you come here in the morning we can meet with our dear brother before he goes to work." A sly smile grew on Vincent's face. "Sounds great." He said.  
The next morning at 5:00 Vincent and Kyra came to Baker Street, Kyra yawning loudly. I had my usual scarf and coat on while John was still in bed. "Good morning, Hero." Vincent said brightly. "Please don't call me that." I said as I went downstairs. Vincent, looking slightly hurt, followed.  
We were halfway to Mycroft's house before he spoke. "Why did you ask me not to call you 'Hero'?" He asked. "You didn't have a problem with it when we were kids." "Heroes don't exist and even if they did I wouldn't be one." I said. "Oh come on!" He exclaimed. "You were always a hero in my book, brainiac." I shook my head. "If I were a hero this wouldn't have happened." I said softly. We didn't talk the rest of the way.  
When we got to Mycroft's house I picked the lock and we all went inside. "What's the plan, Sherlock?" Vincent asked quietly. "That depends. Did you tell Kyra about Mycroft?" I asked. He nodded. "Perfect." I knelt down so I was at eye level with Kyra. "um oopar jao, to aap ek soot mein laal baalon ke saath ek aadamee ko dekhenge. Daro mat, yah hai ki hamaare bhaee, mychroft hai. Main tum use neeche ka netrtv, ek chhod diya le, aur rasoee mein aana chaahate hain. kya aap yah kar sakate hain?" I asked. _If you go upstairs you will see a man with red hair in a suit. Don't be scared, that's our brother, Mycroft. I want you to lead him downstairs, take a left, and come into the kitchen. Can you do that?_ She nodded and quietly went upstairs. I stood and turned to Vincent. "As for us, I suggest we take this opportunity to make coffee while we wait."  
A few minuets later Kyra's running footsteps could be heard on the stairs. "Little girl, wait! Come back here!" Mycroft called, perusing her as planned. Kyra ran into the kitchen and ducked behind Vincent as usual. Mycroft then appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Vincent and I. "Good morning, Mycroft." Vincent said. "How's my archenemy?" Mycroft's eyes started to show signs of tears as he ran across the kitchen and embraced our brother. "I thought I told you not to call me that anymore." He murmured as Vincent hugged him back. "Since when do I listen to you?" Vincent replied. They separated and the four of us sat at the table. "Where have you been?" Mycroft asked, regaining his composure. "America most recently." Vincent answered. "That's where I met Kyra. You don't happen to speak Hindi, do you?" "No, why?" Mycroft asked. "It's the only language Kyra knows." Vincent explained. "Of course it is." Mycroft muttered.  
 **Sorry again about the wait. I'll post again ASAP. Promise!**


	4. A New Case

It was three days after Mycroft was brought up to speed before John got me out of the house.  
I was lying on the couch in my robe with nothing to do since John took my gun. "Sherlock, just because we haven't had a case in a long time doesn't mean you can just shut yourself in all day." He said. "Do you want to go for a walk or something?"  
"Dull."  
"Isn't it dull on the couch?"  
"Going outside takes effort."  
"What about that case Lestrade texted you?"  
"It sounds too easy."  
"Oh come on, Sherlock!"  
"Fine."  
In a few minutes I was in my suit. "Vincent, are you coming?" I asked him. He looked up from the book he and Kyra were using to help with her English. "Sure but what about Kyra?" He asked. "We can't take her when looking for a murderer." "You're right. Mrs. Hudson!" I yelled. She came bustling into the room, a small smile on her face as usual. "Need something?" She asked sweetly. "We're going to The Yard. Will you watch Kyra?" I asked. "Alright but what if she needs something?" She asked worriedly. "I can't understand a word she says!" "You'll do fine, Mrs. Hudson." Vincent assured her. "She doesn't say much anyway." "Well, alright." She sighed. "You boys be careful." Vincent explained the situation to Kyra and we left. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!" We all called as we descended the stairs.  
We finally got to the yard John at my side and Vincent trailing behind us. We were immediately met by Donovan, and Lestrade. "Hello Freak. We were just heading back to the crime scene." Donovan said. "Do you want to come?" "Of course we do, Donovan. Why else would I be here?" I asked with an eye roll. "Wait a minute." Vincent muttered, stepping forward. "Sally Donovan? Greg Lestrade?" Donovan's eyes widened and Lestrade stood with his mouth agape. "Vincent Holmes, you bellend!" Lestrade finally said, hugging my brother and leaving John and I taken aback. They finally separated, all three of them smiling like old friends. "Will someone please explain to me what's going on?" I asked. "We went to school together, you twit." Donovan said. "Don't tell me you deleted _that_." "Alright, I won't tell you." I said. "Now are we going to a crime scene or are we going to just stand here all day."  
On the way, Vincent looked out the window with a worried expression. "Something wrong, Vincent?" John asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to get him out of his trance-like state. Vincent jumped, grabbing John's wrist reflectively. "Sorry." He murmured, letting go of the blogger's wrist. "I'm fine. Just worried about Kyra." "Oh, about that..." I said nonchalantly. "Sherlock, what did you do?" John asked urgently. "Remember when those cameras were put in our flat?" I asked. John nodded. "I never removed them. I have had them hooked up on my phone in case our work put you or Mrs. Hudson in danger again." I pulled out my phone and pulled up the live camera footage. Mrs. Hudson and Kyra were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. "Are you sure I can't get you anything, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Phir bhee aap nahin samajh sakata, Shreematee Hadasan." Kyra said. _Still can't understand you, Mrs Hudson._ "Right." She sighed. John, Vincent and I couldn't help but laugh.  
At the crime scene, John and I inspected the body. "No visible cause of death and it wasn't drugs or alcohol." John noted. "What do you think, Sherlock?" "Perfectly sound analysis, John." I commented. "Something tells me that Moriarty had something to do with this. It has his name all over it." I looked over my shoulder absentmindedly, looking at Vincent who was talking to Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson in a far corner. "What are you thinking?" John asked skeptically. Realizing that I was spacing out, I snapped my attention back to the body. "I think that we need to find him as soon as possible." "Hey Sherlock!" Lestrade called from the window. "We've got tire tracks going into the forest!"  
We all went outside and, sure enough, there was a trail leading into the forest. "Why would Moriarty go in there?" John asked. "I don't know but I intend to find out." I replied. "John, Lestrade, Donovan, follow me. Vinson and Anderson, stay here." "Why us?" Anderson demanded. "You're of no use to me at the moment, Anderson. Plus someone has to watch the crime scene, hence Vinson staying too." I replied. "Let's go."  
We walked half a mile before Lestrade got a text from Anderson. "'The tracks were a decoy! Come back now!'" He read aloud. Fearing the worst, I ran back to the crime scene as fast as I could, leaving the others behind.  
As I ran, thoughts clouded my normally clear mind. _What happened? Was Vinson alright? How did Anderson of all people know it was a decoy? Why was it so urgent that we come back? What the hell is happening?!_

I pushed these thoughts out of my head as, seeing no one in the back yard, I went around to the front.

There I saw Anderson, barely breathing, lying in a small pool of his own blood, his mobile lying beside him. "ANDERSON!" I yelled, rushing over and kneeling on the ground, thinking through what I was supposed to do. I elevated his head, placing it in my lap, and put pressure on the bullet wound that pierced his left lung, barely missing his heart. "Anderson, you idiot, don't you dare die!" I demanded. "What happened?" "Man came- shot me and took Vinson- went towards the main road." He rasped, coughing up blood between phrases. "Sherlock, am I dying?" A single tear ran down my cheek. As much as I hated Anderson, he seemed like family. "Yes, you pillock." I said, forcing a small laugh. "You're going to die and there's nothing we can do. Even if I call an ambulance it won't get here until you're gone." "Bollocks. And I was looking forward to solving this one. Guess things don't always go as planned." He said with a weak smile. "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes. Tell the others I said the same. Especially Sally." And with that his eyes turned a milky white, he gave one last breath and his body went limp.

A few moments later, John, Lestrade, and Donovan came around the corner to see me with Anderson's head in my lap and my hands covered in his blood. Donovan put a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. "Is he-?" Lestrade asked, unable to finish his sentence. "Yes." I said solemnly. "Philip Anderson is dead."  
 **Hey guys! I'm so sorry about that. Please don't hate me! Happy Thanksgiving!**


	5. Moriarty

**Hey guys! Merry Christmas! This chapter was a bit difficult for me to writebut I hope you enjoy it!**

Sally staggered forward, knelt beside Anderson's body, and took one of his hands in hers. She, unlike John, Lestrade and I, had a connection with Anderson that I had detected from the very beginning. _Don't screw this up, Sherlock._ I thought. _Just remember the five stages of grief._ "I can't believe he's gone." She mumbled. _Stage one: denial._ I hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. "He wanted me to tell you goodbye." I said, just loud enough for her to hear me. I then realized that I was getting Anderson's blood all over her shoulder. "I'll pay for your dry cleaning." I said, removing my hand.

I took off my coat, put it under Anderson's head to replace my lap, and went to stand with John and Lestrade, both of whom had hard expressions. We stood in silence for a few minutes before Lestrade finally spoke. "I should call and tell everyone else." He said. He took one last look at Anderson's body before taking out his mobile and walking around the corner.

In minutes there were cars and a couple ambulances on the street. Anderson's body was taken away, Molly came for what people call "emotional support", and I was given another shock blanket. I was beginning to enjoy those blankets. I was walking with John and Molly when Donovan stormed up to me and planted her fist on my nose. "Sally, what are you-?" Molly began before being pushed to the side. "This is all your fault, Sherlock Holmes!" Donovan yelled. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made him stay behind!" S _tage two: anger._ I regained my balance before replying calmly. "I understand that you're upset but dont forget that you're not the only one that lost someone today." I said, earning myself a black eye. Long story short, I refused to fight back and by the time they got Donovan off me I had a broken nose, a black eye, and possibly a broken rib. Despite all this, I couldn't do anything but worry about Vincent.

Vincent POV

I opened my eyes and looked around. I didn't recognize anything but I could tell by the sound of cars outside that I was still in the city. I was gagged and tied to a chair in a windowless, dimly lit room. Suddenly, footsteps echoed throughout the building. "Hello Vincent." Someone said. "Long time no see." I tried to say something in response but the gag made that impossible; he seemed to get the message though. "You don't remember me?" He asked innocently, still out of sight. "We were friends once, before the incident 21 years ago." I suddenly realized who it was. I managed to work the gag out of my mouth. "Jim?" I called out. "Is that you, mate?" He stepped out of the shadows, grinning widely like he used to. Despite my current situation, I couldn't help but smile at my old friend. "You do realize that you could have just called, right Jim?" I asked jokingly. "Can you please untie me? We have a lot of catching up to do." Jim shook his head. "No can do, Vin." He said. "You see, since you left, Sherlock and I have had a bit of a feud between us. Long story short, I want to destroy him slowly and painfully." By this point he was close enough to brush his hand against my knee. I squirmed uncomfortably, remembering what it normally ment when people got that close. He walked behind me as he continued to speak. "I remember how he began to crumble after the incident. He was never the same afterwards. He never told anyone but after you told him what they did to you he cried himself to sleep. Every time you were mentioned; every time he thought about what you went through was like a stab in the heart." Jim bent over so I could feel his breath on my ear. "Imagine what would happen if he witnessed it." He whispered, sending a chill down my spine.

He untied the ropes as four red dots appeared on my chest. "I don't think I need to explain the stakes right now. You were always bright, Vin." Jim said as he came to face me. He put a finger beneath my chin and led me to my feet. "Now follow me and don't try anything sneaky." He said as he lead the way out of the room. "I have a room all set up for you and Sherlock. Perhaps we could also invite Mycroft and some of your friends! I really want to meet that little girl of yours." That's when I snapped. "Listen to me, Jim." I growled. "You so much go near Kyra and I swear I'll kill you." Jim smirked. "I was kinda hoping that you would say that." He said. "Now come on, Vin. I want to get you settled before we get the others." I reluctantly followed, afraid that I had just made things worse for Kyra.

Jim lead me into a room, took out a pistol, and aimed it at my head. Trying to run or disarm him would get me a bullet in my face. I looked around and saw objects that would be completely foreign to most people. Sadly, I dont fit into the category of 'most people'. I recognized things used for toucher in some countries such as the tiger bench, a box used in Syria, and the cat o' nine tails. There were also two chains on the wall with cuffs on the ends. "Why are there five benches?" I asked. "Because your friends are each going to need a place to sit." Jim replied. _I never should have come back._ I thought as I looked on in horror. _Sherlock, Im sorry._


End file.
